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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24692320">Listening</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dauntless_dragayn/pseuds/dauntless_dragayn'>dauntless_dragayn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek &amp; Paul/Levenson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Connor Murphy Lives (Dear Evan Hansen), Gen, Kinda, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Sibling Bonding, Songfic, Trans Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), its blink and you'll miss it tho, some great fuckin mac n cheese</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:35:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,897</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24692320</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dauntless_dragayn/pseuds/dauntless_dragayn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor gets a midnight snack. Suddenly, he’s not alone.<br/>Some conversations can only happen late at night.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Connor Murphy &amp; Zoe Murphy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Listening</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>one million mega bonus points if you guess what album he's listening to. you can tell i was SUPER into it when i first started writing this lmao. all i can say is connor has TASTE and he would absolutely love this artist.</p>
<p>no cws! mostly just some soft + dorky kids. enjoy :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>	Connor peers around the corner of his doorway. The hallway is completely dark, so he pulls his phone out of his pocket and turns on the flashlight: yeah, the doors of his parents’ and sister’s rooms are closed. Good. Figures, since it’s entirely too late for anyone to be awake. Last time he looked, it was just getting to be three AM. And sure, he considers himself a night person, but damn. He just wants to sleep.</p>
<p>But for whatever reason tonight, he can’t. So he tucks his phone away and steps out of his room. Making his way carefully in the dark, he has to stop himself from habitually slamming down the stairs. (sometimes it’s out of anger, yeah, but - what’s the point in going down <i>slowly?</i>) His stomach pangs on queue when he gets to the kitchen doorway, as he reaches out in the dark for the switch his fingers are able to find instinctively. So yeah, <i>part</i> of the reason might be because he hasn’t eaten anything since lunch today. It’s achingly difficult to go to bed when your stomach is empty. </p>
<p>The room lights up, and he squints while his eyes adjust. A new song starts on his headphones. Connor lets it play for a moment as he stands there, looking around, suddenly unsure himself.</p>
<p>
  <i>Soft and slow.. watch the minutes go.. Count them out loud, so you know you don’t keep them for yourself..</i>
</p>
<p>What <i>does</i> he want to eat? His exhausted brain buzzes uncertainty, stuck on a decision even as simple as this one. 
	</p>
<p>Finally he walks in, opening the cabinet door and looking at what they have. He nearly despairs right then and there, because they’re almost all foods that look suspiciously healthy and low calorie. That would be his mom’s influence. But he keeps digging around, and- there! “So I won’t starve after all,” He mutters to himself with a grin. There’s a single box of mac ‘n cheese tucked in the back, and damn if he can’t make a mean box of mac ‘n cheese. </p>
<p>He grabs it, turning around to set it on the counter and ducking down to the cabinet under the sink to grab a pot. As he fills it with water he bops a bit, because this song that’s on now feels like one of those that you simply <i>have</i> to move your body to.</p>
<p>
  <i>So I just hate everybody, well then, why can’t I go home without somebody?</i>
</p>
<p>He sets it on the stove to heat up. Then Connor hoists himself onto the counter because.. he can. And he takes a little pleasure in the thought that it’d piss off one of his parents. Leaning back on his arms, tipping his head up, he sings along to the lyrics under his breath, swaying gently back and forth. He lets himself zone out like this as he waits.</p>
<p>A guitar riff starts, and he sits up and grins. He loves this song. It sounds upbeat, despite being one of pain. He slides back onto his feet, closing his eyes.</p>
<p>He starts tipping his hips back and forth, head hanging down, grin turning up. He steps forward, turning on his heel to the beginning of the chorus, arms coming up to drum imaginary sticks to the beat. And before he can stop himself, he’s murmuring along to the lyrics and bouncing or hopping just a bit. </p>
<p>It’s really just too fun. </p>
<p>
  <i>And will you please pick up the fucking phone?!<i></i></i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i></i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i></i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>He tips his face back to mock yelling his favorite lyric. And maybe he’s switched from those fictional drums to strumming a guitar, and his long hair is perfect for this moment because it really adds to the <i>rock star</i> effect. </p>
<p>Before he knows it, the song is over, and the next one starts seamlessly as he stands there panting just a bit, smiling unselfconsciously. </p>
<p>
  <i>Let me start this off by sayin’, I really meant well from the start-</i>
</p>
<p>“Your moves are terrible.” It’s a little hard to decipher over his music, but by the time Connor’s head has snapped around, the mumbled words have put themselves together in his head. It’s <i>Zoe</i>. She’s standing back in the dark, just before the entryway to the kitchen, staring at him with heavily lidded eyes. Her long hair is muzzied and some strands leap wildly away from her head. Between her pajamas (a plain tank top and old pink pants covered in stars) and her sleepy posture, she looks.. soft, and rumpled and <i>young</i>. </p>
<p>“<i>What?</i>” Connor internally winces. That came out harsher than he meant it to. Something about seeing his little sister like this warms his chest with affection, but as usual he’s shit at showing it. He slides his headphones down around his neck.</p>
<p>Zoe scratches a spot on her face, glancing away from him and then back. “You- you were dancing?” She says it like a question; <i>Can I tease you, is that allowed between us? Were you actually dancing or is this a fever dream?</i></p>
<p>He suddenly becomes hyper aware of himself: dancing like an idiot around the kitchen in the middle of the night, in only his sweats and his binder. (Normally he doesn’t wear his binder in the evening, ever since that one time he forgot to take it off before falling asleep. But tonight he’d put it on in a small attempt to improve his mood.) Oddly mortified and a little annoyed - at himself? at her? - he hears the water boiling behind him and takes the chance to turn away, pour the pasta in, and set a timer. “Oh, fuck off,” He says through a light blush. He turns around back to her. “My dancing is just fine, thank you very much. Just admit you’re wildly jealous.” There, he’s obviously joking, right? Things don’t have to always be tense between them?</p>
<p>Zoe scoffs and crosses her arms, stepping fully into the lit kitchen. “You call that dancing? All I saw was you flailing around.” Despite the jab, Connor feels a little bit of relief, and guesses she does too. This - whatever it is - at least, isn’t hostility. </p>
<p>He blows a strand of his hair out of his face. “Please, I’m naturally skilled on my feet from those old-” He stops himself. Speaking of embarrassing. Being tired makes him say the stupidest stuff. </p>
<p>Her eyes widen in glee. “Are you talking about those tap dancing lessons you took when you were a kid?!” She lets out a guffaw, then dramatically claps a hand over her mouth. They both at once remember their parents are sleeping right above them. </p>
<p>For a second they stare up, carefully listening. But there’s no noise coming from upstairs. Connor sighs a little in relief. He would <i>not</i> want to explain what the hell they’re doing down here. He doesn’t even really know. </p>
<p>Zoe looks back at him with a grin, whispering now. “Whatever ‘skills’ you picked up from those instantly evaporated after. You’re like, the clumsiest guy I know.” </p>
<p>Connor gapes at her, putting a hand to his chest and keeling over in mock dismay. “I’m truly <i>wounded</i>. You’re just saying that because you’re the kid who took gymnastics and you feel all high and mighty.” When they were young, their parents had signed Zoe up for gymnastics and while Connor generally wasn’t interested in that kind of thing, one day when they were picking her up after a lesson, he’d passed the glass windowed room where little kids were tapping away, and he was oddly fascinated. When he mentioned it to his parents, they’d jumped on his interest and immediately signed him up. It hadn’t lasted very long of course, it was just one of those little kid phases. </p>
<p>Just then, the timer on Connor’s phone goes off, and they both jump. He rushes to turn it off as quickly as he can (is it always that loud or is he just being paranoid??) and sets about draining the pasta. </p>
<p>The air thickens again as he does, neither of them sure what to do with the silence. <i>Come on,</i> Connor thinks, frustrated with himself. <i>Can’t we manage more than a few friendly sentences to each other?</i> But he has no idea what to say.</p>
<p>Zoe speaks up. “What are you making?” </p>
<p>“Um.” He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly embarrassed to admit it. “Mac n cheese,” He mumbles. </p>
<p>“O-oh,” She breathes softly. “That-”</p>
<p>He walks over to the fridge and can’t avoid creating a bit of a clamor looking for the milk and butter, carefully not looking at her meanwhile. </p>
<p>“That’s what you used to make for us.” Zoe finally finishes, words stumbling out in a rush. Connor’s jaw relaxes as all the tension he hadn’t realized had just entered his body falls away. </p>
<p>She’s right. He loved making it for him and his sister - that’s why he can do it without thinking now. Even though the last time he did it was probably when he was like, 14. The two of them would gang up on their mom and beg her to buy boxes and boxes of their favorite brand. And then when they’d gotten home, Zoe would tuck her legs under her and sit on one of the counter’s stools, waiting - sometimes not so patiently - as Connor carefully added just the right amount of everything, tasting and testing as he did. Of course, the two of them would goof around and rag on each other the whole time, and Zoe would challenge his status as Best Maker of Mac n Cheese. But it was always obviously games layered thick with affection underneath. And while Zoe wouldn’t admit to anything, she’d always happily eat every bite.</p>
<p>He swallows and says, before he can think it through, “You want some?”</p>
<p>“Uh, sure.” Zoe bites her lip a little. </p>
<p>“Cool,” He says nonchalantly, stirring. He almost wants to thank her, which is stupid because he’s the one sharing. “I’ll get us some-” he stops when she appears right at this side, holding up two bowls with spoons already in them. </p>
<p>“It’s just- mom’s food was gross, so. I’m starving.” </p>
<p>“Uh huh,” Connor mutters as he serves them both. “Thanks.” Except Zoe says that at the same time. He sets the now empty pot down and glances up at her face in surprise. She huffs a little self deprecating laugh and glances away. She holds up the bowl a bit that’s cupped in her hands now. </p>
<p>“For.. you know.” </p>
<p>Somehow, he’s frozen again. When he doesn’t say anything, she turns away quickly and settles on the floor with her food, leaning against the wall with her legs crossed. </p>
<p>“No problem,” He finally manages. He gets his own bowl and stands there for a moment, looking down at her. Taking a small bite (it’s good, of course) he winces slightly at how loud the sound of the spoon against the bowl is in the silence. </p>
<p>“Well this is way better with milk,” Zoe suddenly says.</p>
<p>“I-” Connor can’t help but laugh just a little at the statement. “What??”</p>
<p>She grins at him mischievously, and he suddenly feels utterly weird for just standing there, so he moves to sit down by the wall next to her as she says, “There was that one time we didn’t have any milk, so instead of doing like, the logical thing and just asking mom or dad to go and get us some, you decided to try to use <i>water</i> instead and it was gross.”</p>
<p>“Oh my god I remember that now. But come on I mean- it wasn’t that gross.” Not as bad as he’d thought it’d be, anyway. </p>
<p>Zoe rolls her eyes. “Okay fine it wasn’t. But it wasn’t, like, good either. With milk is a hundred times better.”</p>
<p>“Fair, I can admit that. I just wanted to see what it would be like, I didn’t think it’d actually save the batch.” He says with a chuckle. </p>
<p>And with that they sit in silence, slowly enjoying their food. It’s not awkward this time though. They’re just.. hanging. No need to fill the space, no need to break through a barrier between them. Exhaustion slips under their eyes and steals into their brains. Connor seems to have finally beaten off his insomnia..</p>
<p>But then something occurs to him; he knows why <i>he’s</i> awake at such an odd time, but what about Zoe? She’s never been much of a night owl. </p>
<p>“..Zo?” He says quietly. She blinks and looks at him.</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“Why are you up?”</p>
<p>She looks away from him. “O-oh um.” He waits patiently. “I.. had a bad dream.”</p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>Her cheeks redden. “It’s silly really, it wasn’t even that scary-”</p>
<p>“No, it’s not.” He cuts her off gently. “Silly, I mean. It’s not.” She looks at him with a strange expression. He thinks he gets her confusion - is he really comforting her? It shouldn’t be hard to believe, but it defies their normal: emotional distance, on opposites sides of a battlefield, usually hurling vitriol at one another if anything. </p>
<p>She fixes her gaze ahead of her. “I was.. standing at the edge of a clearing. It was night time or- or it was completely shrouded by dark, heavy clouds. Or fog. And I was looking out over it, and suddenly I had the awful feeling that I could keep walking and walking, and never get to the other side.” </p>
<p>This. This rings like a confession. Connor wonders if she’s telling him because he’s her brother or if it’s precisely because of the distance between them, that it makes it easier to confess things of consequence. He’s not sure. He’s just grateful at this look inside her head- and also sad. </p>
<p>Because - in an abstract way, of course - what she’s describing sounds familiar. 
</p>
<p>“And you were alone,” He murmurs. </p>
<p>“Yeah..” She hangs her head. “Nothing really happened, I just woke up and it <i>stuck</i> with me. This shitty feeling. The thought of going back to sleep and ending up there again was too much. So..” She trails off and shrugs. “Like I said, stupid.”</p>
<p>Connor sighs. “No, I get that.” He gets it so much that this conversation is sending a familiar ache through his chest. Maybe the two of them aren’t as different as he always tells himself. She’s not perfect; she’s human. She struggles too. “Listen Zo. I’m there too.”</p>
<p>She looked back up at him, eyebrows drawn. </p>
<p>“I mean,” He amends quickly, cheeks reddening a bit. “Standing in that fog.. feeling hopeless. You’re not the only one who feels that way, and it’s not stupid. It’s awful, really. Feels impossible to shake off. That doesn’t make you.. weak, or whatever.”</p>
<p>Now Zoe looks embarrassed too. “It was just a dream..” She mutters this like she doesn’t really believe it, though. </p>
<p>“Was it?” Connor challenges her. </p>
<p>She shakes her head, not answering. “Are you sure? Other people feel that way?”</p>
<p>He decides to drop the last point. “Yeah, I’m sure. It’s just that some people are really good at hiding it. Keeping it all inside and making it worse. And then some others.. aren’t. But they just take it out on everyone around them instead of dealing with it, which isn’t really much better. It’s shitty of them.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, it is. But at least they let themselves feel things. At least they’re.. I don’t know, more honest about it all.”</p>
<p>Connor is quiet. It’s an interesting way of thinking about it. He doesn’t know how to articulate to Zoe though, that he wishes he had the ability to keep his destructive behaviors to himself. That no one else deserves to suffer just because he is. His angry outbursts are only honest to an extent - he wishes he could articulate that he’s usually hiding behind that spitting fury at the world instead of facing his issues head on. </p>
<p>Instead he simply says, “Feelings fucking suck.” as he reaches out a hand to take Zoe’s empty bowl. </p>
<p>She laughs a little. “Yeah, they do."</p>
<p> "Talking about them sucks too.” He stands up, putting their bowls in the sink. “But.. it can be good too. Sometimes.”</p>
<p>When they were kids, it was them against the world. Now.. well, it hasn’t been that way in a long time. They fight against each other, yet somehow never make contact. In this moment, he feels closer than they’ve been in years. It’s small, but it’s something. And while he knows that the wall between them, built up by their own hands, can’t come down in one night, he feels a new hope that maybe it can be eventually. </p>
<p>“Sometimes it’s nice to be heard.” She says quietly. Listening, <i>really</i> hearing her; if that’s all he can do now, it’s a start.</p>
<p>Connor reaches out a hand to his sister, who’s still sitting on the floor. Zoe meets his gaze, a small smile appearing on her face. She reaches out and lets him help her stand up. He glances at the kitchen clock and laughs. “Oh, shit.” It’s nearly four now. “You should go to bed, dude.” </p>
<p>She rolls her eyes. “Oh, whatever. You should too.”</p>
<p>“Fffffiiine.” He says with exaggerated reluctance. Now that he’s eaten though, exhaustion is hitting him like a heavy blanket. </p>
<p>The two of them head upstairs together. At the top he whispers, before they turn to their rooms, “Night Zo.”</p>
<p>“Night, Connor.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>eh?? eh????? see what i did there? with the title? i think i'm clever.<br/>i'm awfully proud of this little thing. fun fact; the entire premise came to me when i was in the shower back in january and i've been slowly chipping away at it since. </p>
<p>lowkey dedicated to my own little sister &lt;3</p>
<p>come talk to me about the murphy sibs or anything else on my deh blog <a href="https://sincerely-nerdeh.tumblr.com/">sincerely-nerdeh</a>!!!!!!!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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